


Mr. Responsibility

by Frosty_Skies



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (Because I Felt Like It), (I Am The Author And I Control All), (The Author Regrets Everything), Bad Thalia. How Dare You Deprive Your Child of Snowmen, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Antics, Begone Stairs!, Beta Tested By My Best Friend, Damian Wayne Does Not Know What a Snowman is, Gen, Jason Todd Deserves A Raise, Jason Todd Does Not Know That Blackmailing is Illegal, Jason Todd Does Not Know The Difference Between Flat Beaters and Balloon Whisks, Jason Todd Keeps Everyone Together, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd is Responsible, Jason Todd-centric, No Instructions. Instructions are for Sissies - Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown Needs A Bodyguard Or Something, The Author Regrets Nothing, The batfamily is messed up man, Tim Drake is Bad at Self-Care, Tim Drake is Not Okay, Tim Drake is a Caffeinated Zombie, Why?, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosty_Skies/pseuds/Frosty_Skies
Summary: Everyone says that Jason is irresponsible, but he begs to differ.  After all, he's the only one holding this messed up family together.Or:Jason Todd shows us a host of problems he's resolved during his time in the Bat Family, and learns that blackmailing is illegal.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Jason Todd & Everyone, Roy Harper & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 168





	1. Instance One: A Brotherly Dispute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason settles a dispute between his annoying younger brothers.

Most people assume that I’m the irresponsible one.

“Ah, yes. Jason Todd. The angsty, rule-breaking, death-defying ward of Batman.”

And, yeah, all of that is accurate. But irresponsible? Not in a million years. After all, who has to keep these crazy lunatics I call family from falling apart? Certainly not Bruce. Alfred works hard, but even his power has limits.

No, this task falls to  **me** .

  
\---

“Get back here, demon spawn!”

“Negative, Drake. I am superior to your tainted bloodline!”

I lowered my book slightly and glared at the replacement and the brat from my place on the couch. I was sprawled across all three cushions in a relaxed position, reading Pride And Prejudice.

“Give me back my coffee cup!”

_ Oh boy. _ No one comes between the replacement and his caffeinated drinks. And I mean  **no one.**

“Once you pay retribution for your crimes, insolent spider-killer.”

I gritted my teeth and glared at the words on the page, trying to block out the disturbance.

“Dami, Tim, whoa! Hold up!”

_ Dickie boy’s come to help. Greaaaaat. _

“What’s all this about?”

“But out, Grayson! This is between me and the Vermin.”

See, it’s not that Dick doesn’t try, in fact, he tries really hard. It’s just that his methods are ineffective.

“Dami-”

_ Alright, time to stop this. _

I sighed and set down my book. “Oi! You two! Get over here.”

The brat jumped over the back of the sofa and landed on my chest in a crouch, knocking the breath out me. He carried a white cup with a coffee bean printed on the front.  _ The replacement’s favorite. _

Pushing him off of me and onto the floor, I scowled at him and Tim, who had grudgingly trudged over. Dick leaned against the doorway, watching the proceedings. “I’m trying to read and relax, but it’s kinda hard to do that with you two knuckleheads rampaging through the manor. Now, who started it?”

Predictably, both pointed at the other. I dragged my hand down my face and groaned. “Okay, stupid question. What happened?” Both inhaled deeply, about to rush into their accounts of the story. “Wait! Replacement goes first.”

“Hey!” Damian protested. “Why does he get to go first?”

“Because he didn’t jump on me like I was a goomba five seconds ago. Tim, start.”

“I was walking to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. On the way, I passed Damian staring intently at the ground. As soon as I passed him, he grabbed my cup - my  **favorite** cup - and ran off.”

“Okay.” I turned to the brat, who was gritting his teeth as he glared at Tim. “Damian, your turn.”

“I was not staring at the ground,  **Vermin** . I was watching Alanzo the spider as he practiced the new tricks I was teaching him. Until  **you** so cruelly  **squished** him, thus extinguishing his bright, promising life.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember there being an Alanzo amongst your many pets. Let alone a spider by that name.”

He clenched his fists. “He was a new addition to the family.”

“Did Bruce approve that?”

He looked down at the floor, and I could tell that he was hesitant with his answer. “A mere technicality. I am positive that father would have agreed to Alanzo staying.”

“Mhm...” I glanced from one to the other and stuck my hands in my pockets. “Sounds like you’re both in the wrong. So, here’s my proposition for you two. Damian, you’ll give Tim his mug back -”

Damian squawked, but I silenced him with a death glare before continuing.

“- and in exchange, neither Tim nor I will tell Bruce about Alanzo, and Tim will be more careful about where he steps from now on. And you both leave me alone for the next week.” I draped my arms over the two of them and pulled them close, each of them practically snarling at the other. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“Hmph. I...guess this is acceptable.” The brat handed the mug back to the replacement, who hugged it to his chest lovingly.

“Great! Now go build a doomsday device or something.” I pushed them away and laid back down on the couch in my original position. As soon as the two monsters were out of sight, Dick stepped into the room and walked up to me.

“How did you do that?”

I looked up from my book disinterestedly. “Hmm?”

“That whole diplomacy thing you just did with Tim and Damian. What’s your secret?”

“Oh.” I sat up and motioned for him to come closer. Once I was less than an inch away from his ear I whispered, “The secret...is blackmail, threats, and bribery.” I leaned back, a satisfactory smirk on my face.

Dick raised an eyebrow. “And when did  **you** of all people come across this secret art of discourse?”

“I learned it from dealing with the crime lords and drug dealers back in my early Red Hood days. When I wanted to make them do anything, I’d simply blackmail, threaten, and/or bribe them. It seems to work with family members too.”

“Huh. And this works every time?”

“Yup.”

“I might have to try that sometime. Thanks, Jason.” Dick beamed his signature smile at me and waved as he walked out of the room.

I picked up my book once more and let out a long exhale as I reclined back into the soft cushions of the sofa.

_ Ah. The sweet sound of silence. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking. "ANOTHER fanfic Frosty? REALLY?! Aren't you still in the middle of, like, EIGHT others?" And my answer is "yes. I am. And I promise to actually update this one. Once a week. Every Wednesday."
> 
> There. You happy? I'm also going to work on updating the others.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this first chapter! I'm not sure I represented Jason quite right, so if you have any suggestions or criticisms, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> My new favorite saying: "I am superior to your tainted bloodline!" (Yes, I've actually already used it.)
> 
> Oh, and...
> 
> I'm Batman.


	2. Instance Two: An Injured Bat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finally finishes his late night patrol, fully intent on sleeping, but receives a phone call that condemns him to watching over an injured Batchild.

See? What did I tell you? Responsible.

What? Blackmail isn’t responsible? Since when?! Wait, it’s not even  **legal** either?! Oh, wow...

Okay, you remember that story I just told? Forget all of it. Yes,  **all** of it. Even my insane charm and cunning - a hard task, I know. I’m going to tell you a different, less compromising tale…

  
\---

There are certain people in this world who should never be left to their own devices.

Stephanie Brown is one of them.

I had just peeled off my suit and taken a quick shower after a long patrol, expecting at least a solid three hours of sleep. But no sooner had I flopped onto the bed than my cell phone began ringing. “Ugh. I should have left it on vibrate,” I grumbled as I reached over and put the infernal communication device to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jay-bird.”

My frown deepened at the cheery voice. Only one person on Earth could be that happy at 2 a.m. “What do you want Dick? I’m trying to sleep.”

“Ah, sorry about that. Bruce needs you at the manor.”

“Well, tell him it will have to wait till morning.” I was about to hang up when his voice rang out again, this time more urgent.

“No, wait! It can’t wait that long.”

I sighed. “Look, I’m not just going to rush over there because  **Bruce** wants me too.”

“Sorry. Wrong wording.  **We** need you at the manor.”

I sat up, getting more frustrated by the minute. I just wanted to sleep for goodness’ sake! “Why do you need me specifically? Wake up Tim or something!”

“That’s just it. I would, but he’s busy tracking down a villain with Bruce. I have to join them soon and-”

“Dick. What exactly do you need?”

“I need you to watch after Steph.”

“No. No, no, no, no,  **NO** _ - _ ”

“But Jason-”

“I said  **no** Dick. I am not watching over that waffle loving freak.”

“Jason, you’re the only one not busy on a mission, and we need  **someone** to make sure she doesn’t somehow accidentally electrocute herself.”

“You really have so little faith in her?”

“This is  **Stephanie** we’re talking about.”

“...Good point. I’ll be right over.” I hung up and set the phone aside, grabbing a pair of pants, yesterday’s shirt, and red sneakers. After slipping them on I took one last wistful look at my cozy bed, which seemed to be calling my name with renewed fervor, before walking out the door.

  
\---

I rang the doorbell, the chill night air nipping my exposed arms and face.  _ I really should have grabbed something warmer than a T-shirt. _

A few moments passed before Dick finally opened the door, a beaming smile on his face, and practically dragged me inside before I could change my mind and leave.

“Thanks a million, Jason. She’s upstairs in her room. Please make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. Bye!” He was out the door so fast I didn’t have time to ask any questions.  _ Great. _ I sighed and looked around at the empty foyer. The manor always seemed overly depressing when alone, so much so that Bruce’s adoption issues seemed reasonable. I climbed the large marble staircase to the second floor and navigated around the maze of halls until I located Stephanie’s room. Pushing open the wood door, my eyes widened from the display before me.

Stephanie was lying on her bed with medical gauze neatly wrapped around the top of her head and midsection, and a cast and sling encompassing her left arm. She looked immensely bored but immediately brightened when she saw me. “Hi! I didn’t know you’d be coming, Jason.”

I sat down on the edge of her bed near her feet. “Yeah, well, Dick was very insistent. What happened to you?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. I was beating up a villain and got careless. Cost me five ribs, an arm, and a mild concussion. What’s new with you?”

“Nothing much.” I looked her up and down, trying to discern the best action plan.  _ If only she had broken her legs… _

“Oh! Since you’re here, wanna play Candy Land?”

I nodded, glad for something to do other than sitting there, daydreaming about sleep.

  
\---

Five games of Candy Land later, and I was beginning to lose my mind.

“No, no, no,” Stephanie shook her head. “You got the ice cream card, so now you have to go to the ice cream block.”

“But that’s  **behind** me!”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“I’ve never heard that rule-”

“What version did you play?!”

“This one!”

“Well, maybe the rules changed while you were dead.”

My mouth gaped open. “How **DARE** you! Playing the death card...how insensitive.”

She rolled her eyes and moved my piece to the small square on the path which had an ice cream cone on it. “There.”

“Evil little witch,” I grumbled. Stephanie either didn’t hear me, or pretended not to. After another five minutes the game ended with her as the victor. For the sixth time in a row.

“I am now the queen of Candy Land! I demand you bring me waffles!”

“I am  **not** bringing you waffles.”

“But waffles!” She drew out the A of waffles much longer than was necessary and made her voice as pitiful as possible.

“Go get them yourself.”

She pointed at her left arm. “And how exactly do you expect me to make waffles like this?”

“Then I guess you’re out of luck.”

She pouted and made puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll help you next time you mess with you Bruce, and I won’t tell him about it. I’ll even give you an alibi.”

I didn’t really need help toying with Bruce. I could do that just fine on my own. But an alibi could make him even more confused as to who did it, which would be fun to watch...

I groaned. “Fine. I’ll make you your stupid waffles.”

“Yay!” She bounced up and down, swinging her legs over to the edge of the bed and springing up into a standing position on the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I stood up as well. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The kitchen. You didn’t think I’d trust the sacred art of waffle making solely to an uneducated fool such as yourself. Did you?”

I inwardly moaned. “Let’s just go.” She beamed and raced off towards the kitchen. I ran after her, remembering what Dick had told me.  _ “Please make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.” _ “Hey, wait! You can’t run with -” I broke off when I exited the room, seeing Stephanie hunched over, leaning against the wall. She was panting shallowly and wincing in pain. I grabbed her arm and put it around my shoulders, allowing her full wait to fall on me. “Kid, you can’t run with broken ribs. Have you learned nothing during your time as a vigilante?”

“At least I didn’t die,” She joked while wheezing.

I inhaled deeply. “ **INSENSITIVE** .”

When we reached the kitchen I let her rest on a counter while I breathed in the intoxicating smell that seemed to eternally dwell in this room of the mansion. Alfred’s years of amazing cooking had no doubt permeated the air - and even the furniture - with the heavenly aroma.

“Okay, let’s get cooking!” Stephanie slid off the counter, apparently recovered from her lack of air, and began grabbing ingredients, bowls, utensils, anything she considered necessary . When she had finished, there was a pile of stuff staring back at us from the marble countertops.

“Well, you’re the waffle expert,” I nudged her towards the heap she had collected. “What do we do first?”

She pointed with her good arm at the eggs. “Put the eggs in the bowl and beat them till they’re fluffy. I’ll preheat the waffle iron.” She walked to the other side of the room, leaving me with my assigned task. I cracked the eggs into the bowl and was about to use the stand mixer when I heard a panicked yelp from behind me. Whipping around to see what terrible mess she had gotten herself into this time, fully expecting to see her hand burning in the waffle iron, I was nearly mowed down by an angry Stephanie.

“What are you  **DOING** ?!” She frantically grabbed the bowl and placed it as far away from me as she could currently reach.

“Conquering Denmark.” I flicked her forehead with my index finger. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It  **looks like** you were about to use a flex edge beater when everyone knows you use a balloon whisk!”

“What are you talking about? They both do the same job.”

“No, they don’t! Flex edges are for sticky substances, and balloon whisks get more air into the mixture.”

“Okay, so where is this ‘balloon whisk’ of yours?” I asked. I used air quotes on the name, still not believing that there was any big difference between the two.

“Over here.” She reached up into the cabinet directly above her and pulled out a mixing head that looked far more normal than the one that was currently on the mixer.

_ Oh. Maybe there is a difference. _

She handed it to me with a smug smile on her face, obviously noticing my observation, and gestured at the mixer. “Now, this time don’t mess up.”

I glared at her and swapped the mixing attachments. It was much smoother sailing from then on - her giving me directions and the occasional advice, and me following along. After thirty to forty minutes, we were each stuffing a perfectly golden, crispy waffle in our faces.

“You know,” she began through a mouthful of our creation. “You’re not such a bad cooking partner.”

I snorted. “Thanks. You’re not as much of a freak as I - Hey!” I pulled my arm away from Stephanie, who had just smacked it and was now sticking her tongue out at me in defiance.

“Well, I see you two are getting along.”

I whipped my head up at the voice, and saw Dick standing in the doorway. “You’re back already?”

“Already? You’ve been here for at least two hours.” He noticed the waffles in our hands and rocked on his heels. “Are there any for me?”

“Yes.” Stephanie grabbed the plate that still held four waffles and began walking out the door with Dick, who had begun making conversation with her.

It took me a full minute to realize that this meant I could go home and sleep.

It took me another five seconds to realize that someone had to clean up the mess we had made in the kitchen.

And that Stephanie was trying - and successfully, escaping this task.

“Hey, wait! Get back in here you lazy goat!” I ran out into the hall, but they were already gone. Sighing, I turned back to look at the kitchen.  _ No way am I angering Alfred by leaving this mess here. _ I shivered at the thought of the old butler enraged.  _ No, definitely not. _ Resigning to my fate, I grabbed a bowl and began washing it.

Sleep had been so close, yet so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey! That's right, I did it! I actually made the deadline. To whomever thought I couldn't do it (basically anyone who has read any of my other works): "In your FACE!!!"
> 
> Okay, enough gloating.
> 
> I actually new very little about Stephanie Brown going into this chapter (and still do), so I developed a character based on what I know about her. I hope you enjoyed her and this chapter as a whole. I quite like the Stephanie I created. She was very fun to write.
> 
> Alfred is not one to be trifled with.
> 
> I'm Batman.


	3. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break from Jason's stories, wherein the other Batbros have a chat about his recent actions.

Footloose: Have u guys noticed that notebook Jay’s been writing in recently?

Demon Spawn: You will have to be more specific than that. And use proper English.

Footloose: Dami, the whole point of texts is that they’re supposed to be faster

Demon Spawn: I see no reason to sacrifice the skill of literacy for the sake of a few letters.

Footloose: What did you mean by “more specific”?

Yum: Jason has many books full of poems he’s written stashed in his drawers

Footloose: He does?!

Footloose: Wait...How do you know about this?

Yum: I rifled through his stuff

Yum: Duh.

Footloose: Okay, we’re going to have another talk about privacy later, Tim.

Yum: It’s not my fault he only has a standard padlock on his desk drawer!

Yum: He’s practically begging for someone to steal it!

Yum: Plus, this was way back when I thought he might still be secretly evil

Demon Spawn: @Footloose if you are referring to his most recent purchase, then you are speaking of his “responsibility” journal.

Footloose: Responsibility journal?

Demon Spawn: Yes. He has been documenting all of the times he has been responsible. I believe it is because he feels unjustly ridiculed for his lack of reliability.

Footloose: Oh

Yum: He’s also been publishing it anonymously

Footloose: …

Footloose: Does he mention that he’s Red Hood?

Yum: Yes

Footloose: !

Yum: But everyone believes that it’s a joke by some fanfiction writer

Yum: No one is taking it seriously

Yum: They all consider it too dumb an idea for the actual Red Hood.

Footloose: ...

Footloose: If only

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this is so short and is a text chapter instead of a story chapter. I have finals this week and next, so I've been really busy and haven't had time to write. (I legit made this in twenty minutes when I realized that it was already Wednesday evening, and y'all would tear me to shreds if I didn't post anything.)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!
> 
> If you understand Tim's name, you are officially deemed smart by me.
> 
> ...I'm Batman


	4. Instance Three (Part One): A Caffeinated Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Tim are on a Stakeout when things start to go horribly wrong.
> 
> Or: Lies, guns, and sleep deprivation.

It was Saturday.

Saturday, as everyone knows, is stakeout day.

Also known as sit-on-your-butt-for-hours-doing-nothing day.

“Are we sure they’re even really in danger?” I ask Red Robin, who was perched next to me on the rooftop’s edge. “No one’s even come  **near** their floor in over six hours!”

“The Dottinghams have received threatening notes, found their penthouse broken into while they were out several times, and have been shot at by multiple assailants, all of which happened in the past two weeks.” He turned to look at me, the slits of his black hood narrowing slightly in what could only be called a tired stare of annoyance. “So yes, Jason, I’m positive that they’re in danger.”

Tim had seemed very tired that day - no, week. And I mean more tired than usual.  _ Has he been pulling one of his all-nighters again? _ I tried to think back to the last time I had seen or heard of him going to sleep.  _ But that was... _ **_two weeks ago!_ ** _ Surely Tim’s not  _ **_that_ ** _ much of an idiot. _ I glanced over at him, trying to discern his level of tiredness, but it was almost impossible with the mask, and he had gotten insanely good at controlling his body language ever since the one time Dick tried to have an intervention because Tim had been visibly sluggish and slumped for three days straight.

I sighed and went back to watching the old couple playing cards in front of their tv, which was showing old reruns of  _ I Love Lucy _ . “Don’t old people ever do anything?”

“You’d prefer it if we had to run around Gotham to keep an eye on them?”

“Yes! At least then we’d get some exercise! We’re just sitting here doing absolutely nothing. And what kind of name is Dottingham, anyway? It sounds like some snobby British person.”

He turned to me, and I could tell that he was either extremely tired, exasperated, or both. “They  **are** British, Jason.”

“Well, they don’t need to  **advertise** it!”

Red Robin muttered something about a purple spider and picked up his binoculars again to continue his vigilant watch. I rested my chin on my hand and fiddled with the communicator in my ear until I had adjusted the frequency to pick up the local metal station. Bruce had always forbade us from messing with the coms, as it could make it possible for an enemy to pick up on our conversations. Ever since my death fiasco however, I stopped listening to that rule, along with many others.

My head nodded along with the fast paced beat of the drums. The Dottinghams had stopped their card game and were now sitting down to watch  _ National Geographic _ over cups of an indiscernible hot substance, most likely tea. Everything seemed fine. It was a great day to be a Dottingham.

That, of course, is when all hell broke loose.

The door to the penthouse riddled with bullets. The Dottinghams make a dash for their bathroom. Three armed attackers enter through the now kicked down door, searching for their prey.

And worst of all, the heroes were having some...technical difficulties.

“Okay, so you were right,” I say as I scramble up from my seated position on the roof. “They’re in trouble.”

Red Robin quickly bolted up, pulling out his grappling hook. But just as soon as he was up, he was down. One hand held to his head, he cursed under his breath.

I launched my own grappling hook just above the window that led to the Dottinghams’ living room. “You okay there, Red?”

“Yeah. I just...stood up too quickly.” He raised himself again, this time slower, and shot his grapnel, which landed beside mine.

“Okay, if you say so.” I didn’t fully believe him, but now wasn’t the time to argue. The Dottinghams were in need of rescuing, after all.

We crashed through the window, landing in a shower of broken glass. One of the intruders was just exiting that room, and whipped around when he heard our entrance. He began firing on us and we flipped the coffee table on its side to shelter behind it. I pulled out my 9mm handgun from its holster on my thigh. Peering around the table, I made a quick mental note on his weapon.  _ AK-47. Considered the second best machine gun. _ I narrowed my eyes.  _ But his aim is sloppy, which is the downside of using automatic fire-arms. _ I pulled back into the relative safety of the makeshift shield as the attacker began to aim for my exposed head. I smirked.  _ This should be easy. _ I turned to say a few words to Red Robin, but found him already launching himself over the table at the armed stranger.

_ Gotta love the batfamily’s lack of communication. _ I quickly followed him and shot at the man’s legs to incapacitate him as Red Robin and I rolled across what I could only assume to be an expensive rug. Unfortunately, he was wearing heavy body armor, which my bullets didn’t seem to penetrate. But the impact did throw the man’s practically non-existent aim off a bit, allowing us to safely hide behind a chair.

Red Robin was breathing heavier than usual and I glanced over at him before firing a few more shots at the enemy. “You good, Red?”

No answer.

I looked at him again and saw that he was slowly collapsing onto the ground.  _ Oh, gosh. He really  _ **_is_ ** _ sleep deprived. _ I rapidly went through my options. I could let him continue fighting and possibly injure himself or get shot, or I could tie him up and hope it takes him long enough to break out in his current state that I can deal with the Dottinghams’ assaulters. I decided to go with the second one and took out a polymerized rope from one of my pouches. Even with the mask, I could tell Red Robin was raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do with that? You won’t be able to get close enough to him when he’s shooting at us.”

I grabbed one of his wrists. “This is for your own good, Timmy.”

The white slits in his hood widened. For a split second he didn’t move, the realization of what I had said sinking in. But as soon as that moment was over, he started struggling against me, as vigorously as if he was a normal, non-sleep deprived person.

But that split second was his undoing. It was all I needed to gain the upper hand.

I tackled him, pinning his arms behind his back. As I began to wrap the rope around his wrists he managed to kick me in the stomach, causing my grip on him to loosen. I gasped for the air I had lost from his surprisingly powerful blow. He tried to crawl away while huffing from exhaustion, but was stopped by the intruder firing a round of bullets at the couch.  _ At least his brain is still functioning well enough that he won’t do anything stupider than usual. _ I grabbed the neck fabric of his suit and hauled him back to the middle of the chair. This time I managed to properly pin him under me and tied the rope around his wrists and ankles while he squirmed in vain below me.

Once he was fully restrained I moved off of him and waited a moment to make sure he would not be able to escape right away. “Jason, let me go!” He snarled as he writhed on the ground, fighting against his bonds.

“No can do. I don’t want to have to deal with Brucey yelling at me because you injured yourself.”

“I’m perfectly fine!”

I didn’t respond. I had turned my attention to the task at hand, which was subduing the Dottinghams’ attackers. I assumed they all had the same armor and weapons, which meant I needed to figure out how to take them down when my bullets couldn’t hit them and I was under constant barrage of enemy fire.

Yeah, this was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I split this chapter in half. I realized how long it was going to be and that otherwise I wouldn't be able to finish it in time. I'm also sorry for posting it so late today. I was driving for multiple days this week/weekend, and had to finish up my projects for finals. I was kind of busy, but I understand that I'm really just making excuses. I said I'd update every Wednesday, and every Wednesday I shall. Even if it's a short chapter or only half of a chapter, because I refuse to break my promises. Don't worry, next chapter will continue this one. Be prepared for a fight scene!
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Action scenes are always a lot more fun to write, and I just love the dynamic between Jason and Tim. Also just the fact that Tim is a caffeine addicted zombie who needs help.
> 
> ...I'm Batman.


	5. Christmas Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason recounts a past Christmas eve gathering of the Bat Family.

Oh, you thought I was going to relieve you from the last chapter’s cliffhanger and just  **ignore** the fact that Christmas is in two days? What do you take me for? A holiday hater? No, on this special week I’ll be recounting a fun family tale of my own. So sit back, relax, and get ready for some signature Bat Family hijinks.

  
\---

“What is this abomination?” Damian glared at the snowman Tim had made the day before in a quizzical manner.

“It’s a snowman, Dami.” Dick replied cheerfully.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “But it is not shaped like a man.”

I kept my gaze on the warm manor I had been in just moments ago, only half-listening to the conversation going on next to me. It was Christmas eve and as soon as I had arrived at the mansion, hoping for some of Alfred’s delicious gingerbread cookies, Dick declared that we needed to bond and dragged us all outside. Outside into the cold, inhospitable weather of Gotham in December.

“It’s supposed to look like that, demon spawn!” Tim replied, defending his round creation.

“Then I see no reason for it to be called a -”

Breaking out of my reverie, I jerked my head around to look at the youngest member of the Bat Family. “Wait, smarty-pants, have you never seen a snowman before?”

Dick gasped dramatically and Damian colored, sputtering out excuses and condemnations about how building one was a waste of time.

“We have to fix this!” Dick exclaimed. “This villainy must be rectified!”

“Since when do you say words like rectified?” None of them paid my comment any attention, instead showing Damian how to build a snowman. I groaned.  _ Guess those cookies will have to wait. _

“And then,” Dick explained, “you grab a carrot -”

“I am perfectly capable of deducing such simplicities as building a rotund being out of snow without your incessant yammering.”

The brat then began rolling balls of snow for his snowman. The rest of us watched, Dick beaming like the idiot he is, Tim teasing Damian whenever he got the chance, and I...well, I was thinking of ways to escape this forced bonding experience.

When Damian had finished his construction he presented it to us, a smug smirk on his face. We stood with gaping mouths, eyes wide as we gazed upon what could only be described as the most perfect snowman to ever exist. All three balls of snow were flawlessly round, and were sized so that it looked proportional. All it needed was the decorations.

“See, vermin? My snowman making skills are far superior to your measly abilities.”

Tim muttered something about wiping the grin off our little brother’s face while Dick handed Damian a carrot and some pebbles he had scrounged up during the artistic process. The brat also dressed the snowman in his hat and scarf. After the accessorizing was complete Dick reluctantly consented to a hasty retreat into the toasty quarters of the manor.

As soon as we were within the safety of the mansion’s walls Alfred bombarded us with mugs of hot cacao and the cookies I had been craving earlier.  _ How does he always know? _ I bit into the warm dough, completely content with the sugary goodness.

  
\---

A few hours later, and the time to open presents arrived. Stephanie, Duke, Cass, Bruce, Dick, Barbara, Kate, Tim, Damian, and I all gathered in one of the overly large rooms that were so abundant in the giant house most of us called home. The gifts were passed around, and the go-ahead given. We all ripped the wrapping paper apart, some more violently than others. Stephanie’s style of unwrapping could best be described as  **murder** .

The first gift I opened was from Dick. Taking the lid off the box, I pulled out the most abominable of all Christmas presents. A sweater.

But not just any sweater. Oh, no. Sweet brother Dickie had to give me one with a horrible color scheme. Orange, red, and green were the hues used in the zigzag patterns present throughout the pullover.

Oh, and did I mention it had three armholes?

“Dick…”

He flashed his signature smile at me. “Do you like it? I made it myself.”

_ I can tell. _ “You do know I only have two arms. Right?” I held up the sweater. “And...are you colorblind?”

He laughed. “It was meant to be a joke. I put your real gift underneath it.”

Reaching into the box I pulled out a book titled  _ Living For Dummies _ . Sniggering escaped my oh so thoughtful benefactor, causing me to glare at him. I inhaled deeply before roaring, “JUST BECAUSE I DIED  **ONCE** DOES NOT MEAN I’M INCAPABLE OF LIVING!!!” Everyone turned to us and looked questioningly at Dick. “Idiot,” I muttered as a small grin worked its way onto my face.

Yeah, my family is pretty weird.

But they’re  **my** family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I'm that monster who leaves their readers on a cliffhanger and then pulls a bogus "special" and claims it was simply made because of the holidays and "oh, look, I'm a wonderful human being!" But there is one difference between me and that type of author: I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to tell you that I'm giving you this solely because of the holidays. I was lazy. I realized that I could just write a (short) Christmas special instead because Christmas is in two days.  
> But, hey, I hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> Alfred's superpower is knowing whenever a member of the Bat Family - and anyone on the Wayne property - is in need. This is especially painful whenever Jason is roaming around far away because he can't do anything about it, and the urge to fix it just festers. And Tim's sleep deprivation is the bane of his existence, because no matter what he does he can't get the boy to go to sleep. He's never told anyone about this power, not even Bruce. If he had, they would all take much better care of themselves for the old butler. Tim would actually sleep if he knew how he was harming Alfred.  
> Headcanons :D
> 
> Happy holidays, from me to you!


	6. Instance Three (Part Two): Caffeine and Crime Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason fights the Dottinghams' would-be murderers, brings Tim safely back to the manor, and gets on Bruce's bad side.

Hey, welcome back. Yes, it’s finally time to relieve you from the suspenseful cliffhanger and showcase my  **awesome** problem solving and butt kicking skills. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. In the Dottinghams’ penthouse…

  
\---

An idea popped into my head. Grappling through one of the replacement’s side pockets I pulled out a few smoke bombs and random gadgets. Tim never organizes his compartments. “I’ll be borrowing these for a little while.”

“Hey, get back here you zombified -” I ignored the rest of the insult and threw one of the small round vapor grenades at our assaulter’s feet. It exploded on impact, a grey smog covering the room. I moved instantly, darting towards the hacking cough coming from my target. Smoke and darkness are the Bat Family’s domains, which means sneaking up behind him while dodging the rain of bullets he randomly fired was a piece of cake. I smacked one of Tim’s tools onto the back of the man’s helmet. Electricity zapped over his whole body, and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

_ One down, two to go. _ After tying the attacker up, I grabbed the AK-47 next to his body and peeked into the next room.  _ Cost is clear. _ I tip-toed into the kitchen, keeping low in case of hidden enemies. I didn’t hear any noise at all. The floor was completely silent.  _ That’s weird. They should have heard the gunshots earlier. Where are- _

BRAT-A-TA-TAT

I ducked behind the island counter to dodge the gunfire directed in at me.  _ Where did he even  _ **_come from?!_ ** I peeked around for a quick second to get a glimpse of my adversary. He was peeking out of a side closet I had failed to notice before. I gritted my teeth. How could I have made such a rookie mistake?  _ Never mind that now. I have to take care of him. _ He was in the same armor as the one in the den, which means my bullets most likely wouldn’t hurt him, and I couldn’t put an electric discharger on him without getting a chest-full of lead and possibly body slammed.

I look at the gadgets I took from the replacement. They were all simple ones, like smoke bombs, electric dischargers, shurikens, and... _ wait, what is that? _ I peered closer at it. It was a nondescript silver disk. I had never seen anything like it before, and the last time I checked, Brucey hadn’t recently called a family meeting to debrief a new weapon. It was most likely experimental Wayne tech Tim had snatched. One of the perks of being CEO. I could hear the man inching closer to my hiding spot, step by step.  _ Oh, what the heck. _ I threw the disk in my foe’s general direction. It sparked once, and the lights went out.  _ Seriously? All it does is turn out the lights?! _ The man had stopped shooting, obviously startled. Turning on my helmet’s night vision, I hoisted the machine gun I had taken earlier and fired at him. The impact of the bullets kept him off-guard as I ran forwards and tackled him. Grabbing his own gun from his hands, I threw both AK-47s away and began choking the writhing mass below me. He was strong, but I was stronger. After two minutes he went limp and I released my hold. I checked his pulse.  _ Still alive. Good. _ I didn’t particularly care for this scum’s life, but I knew exactly what kind of conversation would go down back at the manor if I didn’t let him live. I secured him to a stool and continued through the residence, searching for the remaining aggressor.

_ Alright, now if I was a creepy, no-good, British hating murderer, where would I- _ Screams from another room interrupted my train of thought. I sprinted in the direction of the voice.  _ That sounded like the old lady! _ Rounding a corner, I came upon a large bathroom, in which the Dottinghams were cowering inside an oversized bathtub while the last goon slowly stalked towards them. He hadn’t noticed me yet, which gave me a small advantage. An advantage that would most likely end in the next five seconds. Running into the room, I kicked him square in the back, producing a satisfying crack. He stumbled forward before reeling around, aiming a left hook at my face. I dropped to the ground and sweeped his legs out from under him. He face planted on the tiled floor and I plopped down on top of him before he could get up. I quickly hog-tied him and slammed the butt of my handgun into his head, successfully knocking him out. Turning to the quivering couple in the tub, I waved. “Sup.”

The lady fainted on the spot whereas the man at least had the decency to wave back, albeit shyly. Grabbing a flip phone from my jacket pocket, I dialed up a number I had memorized long ago.  _ I can’t get these two and Tim to safety,  _ **_and_ ** _ take the three baddies to the police. I’m going to need some help with this one. _

The line rang once and then, “Hello?”  
“Yo, Jimmy. I’ve got some bad guys for you to round up.”  
Gordon sighed. “Red Hood, I’d appreciate it if you would stop calling me ‘Jimmy’. Where are they?”

“5th and Marley.”  
“What? But that’s the Dottinghams’ apartment!”

“Yes. Don’t worry, they’re fine. Although the Mrs. just fainted.”

“Okay, my men and I will be right over.”

“Thanks.” I hung up and turned to the man again. “Okay, here’s the deal. The police will be here soon to round these guys up. You can either stay here, or I can take you down to the street. Your choice.”

“I-I’d prefer the street, p-please.” He stuttered out.  _ Probably thinks that I’m one of them. _ I hoisted his unconscious wife over my right shoulder and motioned for him to follow me.

By the time I finally got them both on the sidewalk safe and sound I could hear sirens in the distance.  _ Shoot, I left Tim up there. _ Using my grappling hook I went back in through the window we had broken earlier and picked him up. He was asleep at that moment, but would no doubt kill me when he woke up, so I left his restraints on as I carried him back to the mansion.

  
\---

Once I had safely tucked the replacement into bed - with the rope still securely fastened around his wrists and ankles, mind you - I rifled through his room and the kitchen, throwing out anything with even the slightest bit of caffeine in it. I came across some expensive chocolates in my search, and ate them. For Tim’s safety of course. After a good hour of this, I had concluded that the mansion was safe for my sleep deprived brother, and went to untie him.

Upon entering his room, however, I found that he was already awake and unbound and very, extremely livid.

“I can’t believe you  **tied me up** in the middle of a battle!”

I dodged a comb he threw at me. “You were dying of exhaustion! I couldn’t just let you get yourself killed.”

“Alright, fine, I could forgive you for that, but then you also  **took away my sustenance** !”

_ Oh no. _ “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He threw a pillow at me. “Don’t play dumb, Jason! I know you threw away all the caffeine in this room. I checked!”

“Well, now maybe you won’t be dumb enough to not sleep for  **two whole weeks** .”

He laughed in a disturbing, almost insane way. “I’ll just go get coffee from the kitchen.”

I smirked. “That’s what you think.”

He stiffened. “No...you didn’t...you wouldn’t dare…”

“Oh, yes. Yes I would.”

He launched himself at me, and I toppled backwards from his weight, landing at the feet of the one and only Bruce Wayne.

He frowned down at us. “What is going on?”

“Jason got rid of all the caffeine in the house!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and I grinned sheepishly in response. He sighed. “I’ll tell Alfred to buy more coffee tomorrow. Tim, get off Jason.” Tim grudgingly obeyed, and I stood up, brushing myself off. As Bruce walked away I could hear him muttering to himself, “I’ll just have one of those Belgian chocolates Clark sent me to relieve my stress.”

_ Oh. Those were...oh no. _

“Uh, bye Bruce! It’s getting late, have a great night!” Running down the stairs, I heard his shouts just as I ran out the door.

“ **JAAAASOOOOOOON** !!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA I did it. I wrote this in about a day. I hope you enjoyed this end to the cliffhanger!
> 
> Tim never forgave Jason.
> 
> Jason was found dead the next day. Bruce claimed he had not heard from his ward in days, and was deeply grieved by his demise. Many theorists wondered if the red dot on his hand during the interview ketchup, or blood...
> 
> ...I'm Batman.


	7. Instance Four:  A Forgetful Idiot’s Spaghetti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick forgets his anniversary and pressures Jason into helping him.

I sat in my usual booth at the small, greasy diner I visited on a routine basis. Dick and I had arranged this day for our “brother bonding” session. I only agreed because I was too tired at the time to deal with his pestering and puppy dog eyes.

Okay, so maybe I care just a tiny bit about him. But it’s not like I have a personal investment in his life.

While I was waiting for him, I pulled out a leather bound notebook from my jacket pocket and perused through the notes and dates written down under Dick’s name.  _ Hmm...today’s his anniversary with Kori. _ They had been dating for a couple years.  _ It’s probably why he’s running late. _ I snorted. That romantic fool probably forgot all about our little rendezvous.

Oh, you want to know about the notebook? I have to keep tabs on my insane family somehow. This beauty also helps me avoid them, because it has notes on places they frequently spend time at.

My head snapped up at the jingling sound of the diner door opening. It was Dick, grinning and waving like a fool. I glared icily at him as he sat down opposite me. “You’re late, Dickie-boy.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”

“Having too good a time with Kori, I suppose.”

“No, actually.” He nodded a thank you to the waitress for handing him water. “I was running down a lead and lost track of time.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. There’s this crime ring I’ve been trying to bust for weeks. I plan on spending the rest of today on it and-”

“Dick,” I interrupted him. “You  **do** know what today is, right?”

He stared at me, confused. “Um...Friday?”

I facepalmed. “Oy, vey. You really are an idiot. Aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Today’s your anniversary.”

He paled, realization hitting him like a bus. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘ **oh** ’.” I began rebuking him. “I can’t believe you! You’re supposed to be the romantic one, and you just  **forgot** about your anniversary?”

He laid his forehead on the table. “She’s gonna kill me…”

I thought of the six foot tall Tamaranian princess in question. “Yeah, you’re definitely dead.”

“Jason, you’ve gotta help me!” He pleaded with his chin resting on the table and his hands clasped together above him.

I drew back, aghast. “ **ME** ?! Oh, no, no, no. You’re the one who signed a death-by-green-starbolt warrant. Besides, shouldn’t you ask Steph for help? She’s a lot better at-”

“The last time I asked her for advice I wound up in a sticky situation,” He deadpanned.

I held back my snickering, remembering the exact instance he was referring to. Alfred had been horrified by the sheer amount of syrup stuck to the kitchen walls. It took Dick and Steph a whole week to clean it up! I groaned. “Okay, fine. I’ll help you.”

His face brightened. “Thank you!”

“But don’t start expecting me to do this kind of thing on a regular basis.” I waved over our waitress and asked for a box of doughnuts to go. As soon as she brought them we paid and began walking towards Dick’s apartment. “Do you have a plan?” I asked, watching him stuff a jelly filled one into his mouth.

“Hmm? Oh, well since I don’t have time to find a gift, I was thinking I could instead make her dinner or something. With your help of course.”

I internally sighed. While I wouldn’t have to spend hours searching for a gift with him, I would instead have to expend more effort by cooking. “What are we making?”

“Spaghetti.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been rewatching old Disney movies. Haven’t you?”

“Lady and the Tramp is a classic!” He defended. We had reached his apartment and I stopped.

“She’s not in there, right?”

“No, she’s busy dealing with a...situation.”

“Situa-” I remembered that she was in charge of a group of teenagers, one of them being the daughter of a fearsome demon. “Nevermind. Forget I asked.”

We headed up the steps and he let me inside his apartment. I headed straight to the kitchen and began rummaging through his fridge and cupboards. I lackadaisically placed the ingredients and supplies we would need in a heap on the counter. When everything was in order I went to go find my brother, who had somehow wandered off in this tiny space. “Dick!” I searched until I found him in a closet digging through a large bin. “Oi, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, Jason. I was looking for this.” He withdrew from the closet carrying a sparkly purple tablecloth and a green vase. “I was going to put these on the table and run out to get flowers later.”

“Well hurry up, would ya? I’ve already got the kitchen ready.”

“Okay, just give me one second to put this down somewhere.”

I went back to the kitchen, and was followed a minute later by Dick. He glanced at the disorderly pile of supplies. “I thought you said you had gotten the kitchen ready.”

“I did!” I picked up a pot from the bottom of the pile, causing everything to fall on the floor. I scrambled to put them back on the counter. “Everything we need is right here.”

“Uh huh…” Grabbing the box of spaghetti he began reading the directions. “Okay, it says here we need to-”

I whacked it out of his hand. “Nobody reads the instructions!”

“But they’re there for a reason!”

“Yeah, to force dimwitted people into conformity!”

“But I think it would be best if we -”

“ **No** ,” I cut him off. “Pasta is easy, anyway. All you have to do is boil a pot of water and dump the noodles in.”

He placed the box back down on the counter. “Fine. But if this ends badly you’re the one paying for new noodles.”

“Deal.” I grinned, moving to the sink to fill the pot with water. “Don’t worry, you can leave the cooking to me for now. You go get those flowers you mentioned earlier.”

“Okay…” Dick looked like he still felt uneasy about the lack of direction following, but he left for the florist regardless, leaving me alone with a boiling pot of water.

Once the water was at what I considered to be perfect temperature, I ripped open the spaghetti container and threw the stiff noodles in. Grabbing a cutting board I set to work on chopping herbs and tomatoes. Once those were done I plopped them all into the water as well, along with a dash of pepper and salt.

A satisfying aroma was beginning to fill the air.  _ Who needs instructions? _ I began rummaging around for some form of sauce, preferably olive oil. After a few minutes I successfully attained the object of my hunt. I poured roughly a cup of the oil into a skillet and placed it on the stove on medium heat. I then sliced a couple cloves of garlic and placed them into the hot oil. The noodles were around halfway done and I had nothing else to prepare, so I went over to a shelf where Dick kept all his books and perused my options. He had terrible taste. I had already established this ages ago, but my findings confirmed my opinions. There were no classics among the reading material. Everything was relatively new, with nothing beyond fifteen years old. I finally decided on a novel about some dude named Lord Ruler who - you guessed it! - rules the world. It was the least detestable of the collection. I then walked back to my post at the stove and began reading.

A few minutes into the book and I heard the door to the apartment click shut. I looked up and saw Dick carefully placing a bouquet of flowers into the vase and arranging the table. I put the book down and checked the noodles and sauce. The sauce was ready, and the spaghetti was more or less done as well. I took them off the stove and began putting them together in a large bowl, along with some shredded parmesan cheese. Once that was done I took the bowl to the table Dick had readied. “See?” I said smugly. “Instructions are for sissies.”

He peered at my creation. “Well, it looks edible. Good job.”

“Edible?  **Edible** ?! This delectable lump of wet flour is beyond your measly culinary understanding!”

He laughed, and before I could fend him off he tackled me in a big warm hug. “Thanks for helping me, Jason. It means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome. Now will you get off? I’m drowning in your sappiness.”

He pulled back, smiling like an idiot. “Heh, sorry.” He picked up the bowl of spaghetti. “I’m going to put this into the refrigerator for later. Thanks again.”

“Just don’t make a big deal out of this and we can call it even,” I said as I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed for the door. I was about to open it, but first called back, “oh, and try to get some classier books. Will ya?” Before Dick could respond I opened the door and left for my place.  _ Bed, here I come. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry! I'm a day late, I know. I was actually considering messing with the settings so it would say that this chapter was posted on Wednesday, but then decided against it because everyone who was actually waiting would know the truth. Oh, my never-ending shame...
> 
> Jason is one of those people who could make a great chef, but you also don't want to let into your kitchen because he will somehow set the toaster on fire.
> 
> Instructions Shmructions. Gut instincts are far better (as long as you know the basic recipe).
> 
> ...I'm Batman.


	8. Instance Five: Stairs and Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rude awakening from Barbara, Jason decides to take matters into his own hands.

**_BRIIIIIIIIIING!!!_ **

Opening my bleary eyes, I took in the sunny, all too happy for my tastes, world. The sun streamed in through uncovered windows. Checking my alarm clock, I found that it was a quarter past noon. I glared at it, remembering turning off the alarm the night before with the full intention of staying dead to the world till evening.

**_BRIIIIIIIIIING!!!_ **

I bolted up. The noise wasn’t coming from the clock. I whipped my head around, searching for the interrupter of my peaceful sleep. My eyes landed on my phone, which was lit up. Snatching it off the nightstand, I checked who had the audacity to call me on a Saturday. The caller ID said Babs, and I groaned.  _ If she has a mission, couldn’t she just get Dick to do it? _ I tapped the ignore button and slid back under my warm covers.

A moment later, the sound started up again. Throwing the sheets off of me I grabbed the phone and smashed down the receive button.  _ She’ll never stop bugging me if I don’t answer. _ “What do you want, Babs?”

“I need you to come downstairs.”  
I blinked, confused. “What?”  
“I need you to come downstairs,” She repeated.

“If you’re at my apartment just come up and I’ll open the door for you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, getting more irritated by the minute.

Silence, and then, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you ‘ **can’t** ’?”

“Just get down here, Jason.”

“Fine.” I hung up and rummaged around for a set of clean-ish clothes. After slipping into the jeans and T-shirt I found lying around I pulled on my leather jacket and headed downstairs. On the sidewalk, staring at me from her wheelchair impatiently, was Barbara Gordon.

She smirked. “What took you so long?”

“If you wanted to see me so badly you could have just come up to my apartment yourself.”

Her smirk evaporated. “No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not? How lazy can you-”

“Jason, I physically cannot get up to your apartment!” She motioned at her incapacitated legs and then at the building behind me.

“Well why not use the handicap accessible route?”

Her face was expressionless as she gazed at me. “Jason. Look behind you. What do you see?”

I turned, agitated by the sheer lack of purpose of this argument. “Stairs.”

“And?”

“And - oh.”

_ There was no handicap accessible route. _

“See?”

_ How did I not notice that before? _

I glared at the building, plans forming in my head. Babs had apparently continued talking, but I wasn’t paying attention anymore.

“So, if you could just come to the-”

I pivoted on my heel and began walking away.

“Hey!” She feverishly spun her wheels to catch up to me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I just remembered I have a previous engagement,” I responded.

“‘Previous engagement?’ Before I called you I bet you were just going to spend the whole day sleeping!”

_ Well, she’s not wrong. _ I sighed and halted. “Okay. What was it that you wanted again?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “There’s a gala tonight, and a person of interest will be attending.”

“And you need me to follow them around and stuff?”

She barked a laugh. “You? Gosh, no. You’re not exactly the classiest person. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Tim is supposed to keep an eye on the suspect. I need you positioned on a nearby rooftop in case it goes south.”

“How long is this gala?”

“It goes from nine to twelve.”

I would still have plenty of time for my own agenda after I helped her and Tim, so I agreed. “Ok, fine. I’ll help.”

“Great, see you then.”

I watched as she rolled away. What had happened to her wasn’t fair, but then again, life wasn’t fair. But that’s why heroes do what they do. To level the playing field.

And that was exactly what I planned to do later that night.

* * *

Nothing was happening.

I was sitting on a roof, watching the gala next door through the eyepiece of my sniper rifle. One hour into that pompous rich person party and still nothing interesting had happened. To save myself from the threat of death-by-boredom looming over me, I had begun criticising and mocking the people in expensive suits and dresses for the past thirty minutes.

“Oh, Patricia,” I said slowly in a low voice, pretending to be the overweight politician talking to a slender red haired woman. “You look simply ravishing in that dress.”

“Herbie,” I began shrilly. “I told you to leave me alone. If you don’t walk away right now, I’ll slap a restraining order on your sorry behind, you overgrown rutabaga.”

“But-”

“No ‘buts’ you  **slimy buffoon** ! Did you not hear me the first time? I want nothing to do with you and your kin. Never again will I be visiting that rundown patch you call a garden-”

“Jason,” An irritated Babs interrupted over the coms. “Please stop yammering and actually pay attention.”

“I am paying attention! Paying attention to how  **boring** these losers are.”

A sigh. “Well, could you please do that in silence? It’s distracting.”

“Then just mute the coms. You don’t have to listen in on me twenty-four/seven.”

“Yes, I do. You might get in trouble.”

“Listen, you creepy stalker, I don’t need your help if I get in trouble.”

“I bet you would have appreciated someone listening in when you were kidnapped by the joker.”

I gritted my teeth.  _ She just  _ **_had_ ** _ to bring that up. _ “Look, nothing is happening. Can I just go home-”

Sudden movement from the building I was supposed to be watching caught my attention. A handful of masked guys with guns were herding everyone into a tight group and taking their valuables.

“Jason? Why did you stop?”

“Sorry, Babs. Robbers. Gotta go.”

* * *

One exciting fight that will not be recorded here and a few hours later, I was perched on a roof across from the mayor’s office. It was the middle of the night, and everyone else but the guards had left long ago, yet he was still there. Such a hard worker. I almost felt bad for what I was about to do.

Slipping in through a window one floor below my quarry, I noiselessly made my way past the guards and up the stairs. There was one right in front of the office door, but he was easily taken out by chloroform.

Kicking open the door, I sauntered into the swanky office making the gun in my hand as visible as possible. “Hello, Mr. Mayor.”

He looked suitably shocked, and I could see him reaching for the button below his desk that would alert the cops.

I quickly raised my pistol. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’m pretty sure bullets travel faster than the fuzz.”

The sweat dripping down his face gleamed in the light from his desk lamp. “What do you want, Red Hood?”

“My demands are simple. I want you to make a law stating all businesses and public buildings must be handicap accessible.”

“Okay, I’m sure we can - wait, what?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“What, are you deaf? I want all public buildings handicap accessible!”

“A-are you sure? This...isn’t your normal type of threat…”

I cocked my head. “Are you saying you want me to rob you or something?”

“No, no! I’m just saying this is very...out of character.”

I couldn’t really argue with that. “Just get it done. I won’t stand for delays. Got it?”

“Yes, of course.”

Putting my gun back in it’s holster, I give him a nod before walking out of the room and disappearing into the night.

* * *

Three weeks later, I got another call from Barbara.

“Jason?”

“Yeah?” I asked as I brushed my teeth.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about why the mayor is suddenly making handicap people’s well being his first priority. Would you?”

I spit into the sink before me. “Nope.”

“Okay, well, if you did so happen to have something to do with it...I’d thank you.”

I smirked. Sometimes it felt really good to be a good guy. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re also in big trouble for threatening the mayor.”

“Hey! Wait a minute-” I stopped as I heard her hang up. I huffed. Some people just couldn’t appreciate a favor when they saw one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not review this chapter so if there are any mistakes I am sincerely sorry.
> 
> HAHAHAHAHHAH I POSTED THIS AT 11:47 I AM DEAD INSIDE BECAUSE I NEED SLEEEEEEP.
> 
> Ignore that ^
> 
> Yes, this is the second to last chapter. Woohoo! I can't believe it's already been two months now! Jason will not be helping each Bat Family member because while I am very educated on some of the main ones, I know next to nothing about the others. Duke Thomas? Only know what I've seen in memes. You do NOT want me to write a chapter with him as a central side character. It will be far worse than the Stephanie Brown chapter. FAR. WORSE.
> 
> This fic will go out with a bang, so be prepared for the next chapter to hit differently.
> 
> Leave a comment down below with who you think the next chapter will have as a central side character!
> 
> ...I'm Batman.


	9. Instance Six: One Bird Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason helps Damian deal with a loss, and his show of events comes to a close.

If I had to describe that day with only one word, it would have to be grey.

The sky, peoples’ faces, the carpet, even the usually vibrant roses suddenly seemed dull and empty. Everywhere I looked, I saw frowns and tears. The world was covered in a shroud of grief, devoid of joy.

Okay, now that I’ve finished my dramatic build-up, I’ll get to the point. Dick died.

“But, Jason, how can he die?” You ask. “Isn’t he a popular character in the DC universe? Why would the writers just kill him off?” I know, that was my reaction at first too. But apparently those sickos will kill anyone. At least  **I** required a poll. Poor Dickie-boy was killed off without a word.

Cause of death: fighting supervillains.

What the press was told: freak car accident.

The funeral was going to be a small one. No reporters. The only people allowed were those who knew about Dick’s special activities.

Usually I would try to stay away from events like this - way too sappy for my taste - but I felt obligated to go. Dick had been nice to me when I took his place as Robin, showing me the ropes and helping me train, and he had been the one who believed in me the most when I returned as Red Hood. The least I could do was go to his morbid cryfest.

In a miraculous turn of events I was somehow  **early** to the funeral. The only other people there were Bruce, Kori, and Damian. Bruce and Kori were talking in hushed voices at the side of the lobby while the brat was sitting by himself on an ornate wooden bench in a dark corridor. Deciding against butting into the two heroes’ conversation, I slowly made my way over to the tiny assassin.

“Hey,” I greeted. “Mind if I sit here?” He didn’t respond, which I took as a yes. Sitting down next to him I allowed a minute of silence to pass. He was staring into space, his usual frown on his face. Internally debating over whether to be my usual callous self or actually show some compassion for once, I finally decided on a mixture of the two. “So...He’s dead. You okay?” He didn’t respond, but I watched as his frown deepened. Yeah, he was definitely upset. I sighed. “Look, I get you want to act all tough and everything, but it’s okay to feel upset when someone you care about  **dies** . We’re not the League of Assassins. We’re not gonna beat you for showing emotion.”

He whipped his head around to glare at me. I thought I saw a stray tear in his eye, but that could have just been wishful thinking. “You do not understand, Jason.”

“Then enlighten me.”

His head snapped back to its original position, facing the wall opposite us. I was about to give up and leave when he whispered, “It is my fault.”

“Damian, you can’t blame yourself. Literally. You weren’t there-”

“That is irrelevant.” His eyes hardened. “If I cannot save those who are closest to me, then how can I claim to be a hero?”

_ Ah, the age old dilemma. Time to cram some wisdom into this kid’s skull. _ I leaned forward slightly. “Listen, you can’t save everyone. All heroes wish they could, but not even Superman can stop every death that happens. Sometimes the ones we can’t save are the ones we love. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a hero.”

“But…” His jaw clenched. “How am I to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, instead lowering his head.

I didn’t know what to do. I hadn’t really had a plan for if I got this far.  _ What would Dick do…? _ Before the kid could pull away, I grabbed him and pulled him into an extremely awkward and hopefully comforting hug.

“J-Jason!” He sputtered. “Unhand me right now!”

“Nope.”

“Jason, I will carve your heart out and serve it to you on a silver platter if you do not release me this instant!”

His voice sounded steadier. I grinned and let go, standing up as he brushed himself off.  _ My work here is done. _ I turned to go, but stopped, part of me fighting what I was about to say. In a low voice I muttered, “Damian...I miss him too.”

It could have just been my imagination, but I swore I heard a grunt of confirmation as I walked away.

* * *

During the funeral everyone stood around the grave as the priest spoke and family members gave heartfelt speeches. During the proceedings I glanced over at Damian, who was standing away behind everyone else. A tear coursed down his face, and he wiped his face with his sleeve, sniffling. Despite myself I smiled. He was going to be okay.

* * *

Okay, I’ve laid out six instances for you. By now you agree that I’m responsible. Right?

What? You’re still not convinced? What is it going to take?! A blimp with the words “Jason is Responsible” on it flying by your backyard?!

Ugh. Forget it. I’ve got better things to do with my time than waste it on you meatheads. Goodbye. Have fun with life. Hasta luego.

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Why are you still here? I said it was over. Shoo. Begone.

  
  
  
  
  


~ Red Hood  


  
  
  
  
  
  


This was all fake. Nothing in this was real. ~ Anonymous_Yummer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I finished it!
> 
> What did y'all think?
> 
> Yes, I can write angst. :P
> 
> Okay, so I know that OrangeKittyCata thought this chapter would be Damian helping Bruce. I never planned on having him help Bruce for multiple reasons. One of which is that their relationship at this point is kinda iffy. Jason wouldn't really want to help him. Also, to have it be the last chapter would be a bad idea because they would fight and everything and it wouldn't give a sense of closure.
> 
> Don't worry, Dick's death here is for the whole "agent 37" thing. He's not really dead.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this fic of mine. It was a joy to write. If you liked this one, feel free to look at my others. I'll be updating them more now since I'm done with this one.
> 
> Wow. This is my most successful fic. Wow.
> 
> ...I'm Batman.


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